A Pocket Guide to Time Travelling
by Cleo Rina
Summary: She was not cut out for this time travel business. She was a bad liar, for one thing. And too curious, as well. This was no time to be skipping off on some wild  not to mention foolhardy  trip to the past. AU from 5th yr on.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Shamelessly AU, though I will stick to canon as much as possible. Feedback is love.**

* * *

><p><strong>A Pocket Guide to Time Travelling<strong>

**Chapter #1**

**You Must Not Panic**

**When You Find A Wormhole**

There.

The girl...

She was younger than he remembered, her body still more girl than woman, her front teeth suspiciously large and her hair slightly shorter, her cheeks round and plump with baby fat. The young woman he remembered had perfectly straight teeth, longer hair, and a figure that, though well-hidden behind the Hogwarts school robes, drove his dreams into a lustful frenzy. He stared at this apparition, his mind going away from Peter Pettigrew for the first time in so many years, his eyes trying to make sense of her. She was so familiar, and yet not at all.

And then Remus was there, and the look they shared concerning Hermione Granger slid their friendship neatly back into place. Snape's arrival had heightened the unreality of it all, the sense of _Am I seeing this? Are you seeing this?_ He wanted to laugh, he wanted to scream, to touch her and make her real, interrogate her, hug her and kiss her and push her away, because she was just a child. Hermione Granger. For a moment the three former schoolmates had shared a look that established a sort of solidarity concerning the young witch.

_Keep quiet._

Snape, in his infinite coldness, insulted and belittled her rather fiercely, and through the haze of obsession Sirius recognized the signs of a man pushing away from himself that which he wanted but could never have.

_Not me. I won't... I couldn't..._

And so he had extended his hand to help her down the rickety stairs, had placed his palm on her round little shoulder to guide her down into the tunnel, and when she'd come with his godson to rescue him he felt something he thought had become impossible for him to feel- hope. A simple thing, but incredible. He told himself that it would be easy and simple, to keep her simultaneously at arms' length but within his grasp.

Easy.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Neville..."<p>

"Sorry, Hermione... I get so shaky when..."

"Don't think of it as a test. Think of it as just another class. Or make it fun."

The round-faced boy allowed a weak chuckle, quiet so the foul-tempered Professor Snape wouldn't overhear, though he was currently patrolling the Slytherin side of the classroom. "Potions aren't fun."

Despite their diligence to remain quiet, Professor Snape could hear them loud and clear. He showed no signs of hearing them, having no interest in breaking up the silly whisperings at the moment. He was lost in thought, and that was a dangerous way to be when he had a classroom full of idiots brewing dangerous potions.

October.

Her voice in his head, identical to the one across the classroom, snatches of random conversations-

_"Twenty bloody years..."_

_ "...learned this last year... advanced the curriculum..."_

_ "You've never heard of this spell? Really? But it's very common... oh..."_

_ "Where I'm from... hardly strange at all... France..."_

_ "When? When did I move to England, is that what you asked?"_

_ "Severus..."_

He gave no exterior hint as to the memories flying through his brain, but he did halt in front of _her _caldron and study its contents with more intensity than he had the others'. She brewed the potion perfectly.

_ "But you enjoy potions, don't you?"_

_ "Here, Severus, let me show you..."_

A tension-heavy sigh threatened to break free of his mouth. He pursed his lips. "Miss Granger, the instructions were to stir counter-clockwise for three minutes exactly, not three minutes and twenty seconds."

She turned her wary eyes up to him and fluttered her hands in her lap nervously. "But sir, I added the horsetail roots twenty seconds after I should have-"

"Ten marks will be deducted, Miss Granger, for your errors." He left her, his mind going back to his youth.

October again, and the tension in his head was worse than ever. Because there in his classroom was the young woman he remembered. Finally she had arrived at that point in her life where he recognized her. If only he hadn't given up, if only he'd worked harder on figuring out the mystery behind Hermione Granger's appearance, disappearance, and reappearance in his life. He might be able to stop it... But did he want to? Would he take back all the study sessions and intellectual conversations they'd had? Would he take back the happiness, brief though it had been, that she'd given him? Half-remembered moments when their arms brushed or she tucked a lock of his horribly oily hair behind his ear?

How furious he'd been two years ago in the shrieking shack, when his future best friend had defended that sack of filth Sirius Black. The future, the past, both troubling him at the same time. And the look he had shared with Black, the sheer awe when they realized that they both recognized her. It really was her. Name and appearance mattered little in the face of her personality, so heartbreakingly familiar to them both.

_"I do love you, you know."_

_ "I know." He sank down into the overstuffed armchair and looked up at her, his volatile emotions too much for his young mind to handle._

_ "Severus." She went down on her knees and took his hands. "Please. I need you."_

He did sigh then, low and sad and thoughtful. Hermione Granger's head jerked up and she looked at him with something close to concern. His heart squeezed in his chest with so much intensity that he almost groaned, and he scowled at her heavily before flipping open his marking book to spill red ink across the parchment.

85%

He watched the clock. The soft tick would drive him mad. The sluggish silver hands would drive him mad. Time, what was it anyway? The past was as fluid as the future, as changeable as the present. To prove to himself the universe was not some rigid unmovable beast, Severus shoved his glass inkpot off the edge of his desk. It shattered open with a satisfying crash, spilling a pool of blank ink across the stone floor. He watched the liquid shimmer in the firelight for a moment before rubbing his eyes and turning his attention back to the clock.

Somebody knocked on his door.

"Enter."

The werewolf.

Wonderful.

Lupin glanced at the clock, glanced at Snape, shook his head and conjured up a chair. "You seem quite wound up, Severus."

He lifted an eyebrow. "October 13th, Lupin. If she's going back, she best get a move on."

"You're not going to stop her?" Lupin had the audacity to sound surprised.

"Would you?"

"In your situation, I would give it serious thought." He pulled a bar of chocolate wrapped in foil out of his pocket and unwrapped it to take a bite. "Personally, I can't bring myself to be so selfless. Twenty years ago I had very few confidants."

"You're allowing an innocent young woman to possibly ruin her life because you want somebody for your adolescent self to chat with," Snape muttered. "How very intelligent, Lupin."

The calm werewolf's expression grew uncharacteristically irritated. "You're no better, Severus, and you know it."

"You and I are nothing alike."

"No, I suppose you would share the same sentiment as Sirius on the subject-"

"I do not share the same sentiment as Black, I assure you."

They lapsed into a tense silence, with only the soft tick of the clock sounding in their ears like a whispered alarm. Snape knew, and Lupin knew, that down south in London, at 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black would be working himself into a quiet frenzy over the events of twenty years ago and their consequences, working himself into a fever over Hermione Granger. He wouldn't try to interfere. He would agonize over it more than they were, but he would not interfere.

And risk losing everything.

What about the future, though?

* * *

><p>Hermione took the offered chair and allowed herself a moment to gawk around at the Headmaster's office. She'd been in here a select few times, but each time she'd marvelled at the numerous wizarding artifacts and the portraits and Fawkes the phoenix, in full feather at the moment. He was preening himself, oblivious to the world and fully engrossed in his beautiful scarlet plumage.<p>

"I will never be convinced that we humans are the only creatures that take pains with our appearance." Professor Dumbledore had followed her gaze to his familiar, and was smiling at the bird fondly. "He does have his moments of vanity."

"He must be in his prime right now," she said, shuffling her feet nervously. The headmaster didn't intimidate her, not at all, but being summoned into his presence did. Immediately her mind spun wild ideas as to what Professor Dumbledore wanted to see her about. Had she done something wrong? Had something happened to her parents?

"He is approaching that age. I would consider him a teenager at the moment. His appetite is appalling."

She smiled.

"Lemon drop?" The headmaster offered her a dish of candy, and Hermione decided that perhaps he did this with such frequency because he expected people to decline. She wondered if she might be able to catch the famous old wizard off-guard.

"Thank you." She plucked a candy out of the dish and popped it into her mouth. The headmaster's eyebrows rose and his blue eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.

"Very good. Now, I'm sure you're curious as to why I requested your presence, Miss Granger. I will be quite frank with you. You were a student at Hogwarts long before your first year. On this day in 1975, a young witch bearing your name and appearance came to my office with a fascinating tale that I could scarcely believe. She disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared, on February 28th, 1976."

Hermione tilted her head slightly. She was an intelligent witch, and it wasn't difficult for her to guess at what the headmaster was implying. But that would require time travel, and not just a few hours... Decades. Besides that, she had neither the means nor the desire to play around with the fabric of the universe. And besides _that_, she was quite sure the headmaster would never allow such a thing to happen. "Sir?"

He raised a hand, silently requesting her patience. "I cannot stop it, Miss Granger. You cannot stop it. Nobody can. You see, what will happen has already happened. One cannot change the past, not like that. Changing the events of three hours, that is one thing. Changing the events of twenty years ago, that is an entirely different matter. There are memories involved. My memories, and the memories of those you encountered on your venture into the past. You cannot undo that without damaging the present and the future."

She was terrified now, her mind filling with endless possibilities, and why the hell had it taken so long for him to tell her? She could have been prepared, if it was inevitable... She could have...

"You never did disclose to me how it happened, so I cannot tell you any more. I will give you this, a letter for you to give my past self. It will keep you safe and reassure me that you are not a threat to the school. I'm sure this is all quite a shock to you, Miss Granger, but you are a clever girl. You will survive. I recall you not only surviving, but thriving."

"But sir..." She was more than speechless as she took the offered letter and pocketed it. What about her life? What about Harry and Ron? And the Dark Lord, and the Order? This was no time to be skipping off on some wild (not to mention foolhardy) trip to the past. Surely there was a way to prevent it. He was her headmaster! It was his job to protect her, was it not? What happened to his famous protectiveness over his students? He was going to let her go off on a dangerous stint like this with only a few words of reassurance?

The door burst open, and she jumped in her chair, snapping her head around. Professor Snape, out of breath and pink-cheeked, wild-eyed- she'd never seen him so animated. His eyes flew from Professor Dumbledore to her, and to her bewilderment he seemed visibly relieved.

"Ah, Professor Snape. Hello." The headmaster smiled, picked up his candy dish, and offered it to the younger wizard. "Lemon drop?"

"Really now," Professor Snape growled, slapping the candy dish away and sending it skittering across the floor. Lemon drops flew everywhere. Hermione jumped in her seat once more. She'd never seen anyone so blatantly disrespect Albus Dumbledore. "None of that bloody rot, Headmaster. I came to-"

"Stop her?" Dumbledore interrupted quietly.

Hermione stared at her Potions teacher, feeling the first hint of something like betrayal rising in her chest. He knew. How many of her teachers knew? Why hadn't she been told? It wasn't fair, never mind ethical. Time travel was dangerous, dangerous magic that nobody in their right mind would attempt. Using a time turner to attend classes was one thing, but jumping back decades? Who would allow her to do that? How would she do that? And why, for heaven's sake?

"No," Professor Snape said softly. "Not stop her. Her head of house told me she'd been sent up here. I came to... have a word with Miss Granger."

Dumbledore studied him with a gaze so piercing Hermione would have been squirming in her seat had it been her being scrutinized. But Professor Snape stared back at the headmaster moodily, unblinking and unwavering. "Did you?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

"Yes."

"Very well." The headmaster got to his feet, much to Hermione's alarm. She couldn't fathom why Professor Snape wanted to have a word with her, and what about. She didn't relish the prospect of being alone with him. She wanted to run back to her dormitory, climb under her covers and go to sleep. Just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, on October 14th, 1995.

"But-"

"I won't bite, Miss Granger, I assure you. The vampire rumours, humorous as they are, are false."

Hermione blushed and lowered her head. She heard Professor Snape draw up a chair (quite close to her, she noticed nervously) and sit down, his hands folding in his lap neatly. The soft click of a door closing told her the headmaster was gone. She gathered her nerves and looked up at her teacher uncertainly. "Is it true?"

He inspected his fingernails idly before meeting her gaze. "Miss Granger. There are enough memories concerning your little jaunt through time to answer that question in the affirmative. Yes, it's true."

She swallowed and found her throat quite dry, very constricted. "Do you remember me, sir?"

His fathomless black eyes flickered. "Yes. Hermione Granger, fifth year Gryffindor. Transferred from Beauxbatons, I believe. Your French is appalling, by the way, considering it was your language of study for four years."

She found the nerve to laugh weakly, though her head was beginning to spin.

"Miss Granger, I have a favour to ask of you."

That caught Hermione's attention. She'd never known Professor Snape to ask a favour of anyone. He never seemed to need or want anything, and it put her rather on edge if she was honest with herself. "What is it, sir?" she asked nervously.

He frowned, but it was a different sort of frown than she was used to. He wasn't scowling at her. It was not an unfriendly frown. "I would like you to forgive me, Miss Granger, for being particularly nasty and critical towards you."

She gaped at him, sure she had misheard his request. "Huh?"

"Really now," he said shortly, "it's quite simple. Forgive me, Miss Granger. I apologize for my past behaviour."

Hermione continued to stare at her teacher, confused by this sudden switch in attitude. His voice, though still harsh, had softened, but it was the look in his eyes that truly unnerved her. He was silently pleading with her, his normally cold eyes suddenly much warmer and less frightening, his scowl replaced by an uncertain frown. "By past behaviour," she ventured finally, "do you mean... in my past? Or yours?"

Professor Snape blinked rapidly, then laughed. She thought her head might explode. Professor Snape was laughing. And he had a nice laugh, a soft chuckle. "I suppose I should clarify that. I mean the past five years that I have been your teacher. You have to understand, Hermione... Miss Granger..." He halted uncertainly, then pressed on, skipping over the awkwardness of his using her given name. "I wanted you to hate me. It would have saved me a world of grief, you see."

"I don't understand," she admitted.

Professor Snape looked at her intently, his black eyes oddly warm, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We were friends, Miss Granger. Twenty years ago, you and I were very good friends."

"Then it doesn't matter if you apologize or if I forgive you," she argued faintly. "The outcome will be the same. You can't change the past, Professor."

"It may be this conversation that allows us to become so close, though." He shrugged, his normally rigid frame loose and relaxed. He was talking to her as though she was his equal. Hermione decided she quite liked this, unnerving as it was. He rifled around in his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, scrutinizing it thoughtfully. "I thought I'd gone mad when I saw your name on the school register five years ago. Then I understood. There were signs, of course. Little hints that you would drop here and there, probably to relieve the strain of carrying such an enormous secret. For months I wondered why you hadn't confided in me. Then... three years ago... that night in the hospital wing when you lay petrified, looking so much like a corpse." His intense gaze returned to her face, and he sighed. "You didn't want me to change it. To stop it. So I won't, Miss Granger. I put my faith in you. I'm sure you will not disappoint."

Hermione stared back at her teacher, a man who was a stranger to her. Friends. Good friends. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. It was madness.

Professor Snape got to his feet and pulled her up, embracing her in a fierce hug. She nearly keeled over in shock, and it was a good thing he held on to her. She would have hit the floor otherwise. His hands rubbed her back gently, and she could feel it in his arms, the familiarity he knew would exist between them. She hugged him back, though she was confused and frightened of this. It was all so fast, and so unbelievable...

He released her gently. "Go on, then. The headmaster is only stalling. I suggest you fill your pockets with anything you think you may need."

This was definitely the best advice Hermione had received thus far. She nodded mutely and exited the Headmaster's office, racing down the stairs and down the corridor towards the Gryffindor common room. Any minute now... it could happen any minute now... Unless she was dreaming. She rather hoped she was dreaming.

She gave the password to the Fat Lady, barrelled into the common room and up the stairs to her dormitory. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, she snapped her head around and stared at the doorway but it was dark and empty. Strange. She turned around, and for a frightening moment her vision blurred and she saw patterns, white dots dancing in front of her eyes. Her head spun and she experienced sudden, nauseating vertigo, but it lasted hardly a second. Her vision came back and she felt physically fine, if a bit worked up. The shock of it all was getting to her, perhaps.

She went to her trunk, flung it open, and began rooting through her things, in search of what, she wasn't sure. In the back of her mind she saw Professor Snape, looking at her without malice, with something close to wistfulness. Friends. Hermione laughed softly, went to sit on her bed, and stifled a yelp of surprise.

There was somebody there. The duvet curved around a figure curled up on her side, lightly snoring away, a tousle of blonde hair poking out and spilling onto the pillow.

_Bugger._

She looked around the dormitory, so familiar yet so obviously different. The beds were in the same place, but there were posters stuck on the walls that she didn't recognize, stuff strewn about on the floor. A can of hairspray sat on the windowsill. She took it all in, turned on her heel and fled down the stairs into the common room. It was different as well. The furniture was switched around. There was a large couch near the fireplace that she didn't recognize. Her heart fluttered in her chest, panicking.

The portrait was swinging open, a student coming in late. Hermione watched him as he stumbled tiredly across the common room. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he stopped, turned around, and stared at her, eyebrows raised in bemusement. He was a tired-looking but rather handsome boy, with a mess of shaggy hair and kind grey eyes. "Just got out of the hospital wing," he said wearily, eyeing Hermione as though her gaping stare was nothing new to him.

She recognized him. She knew those eyes, that tired manner, that voice. His name slipped from her tongue unwittingly."Remus Lupin."

The boy's eyebrows climbed even higher. "Yes?"

She fainted.

* * *

><p>"Wake up now, dear."<p>

Somebody was tapping her cheek gently. She groaned, irritated by the intrusion, and slapped the offending hand away in annoyance. But the hand persisted, patting her cheek, until finally Hermione opened her eyes and scowled at the blurry face leaning over her. "Where am I?"

"The hospital wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." A matronly woman swam into view, looking down at her with concern.

She sat up slowly and looked around. Indeed, it was the hospital wing. And the woman attending to her was Madam Pomfrey. Considerably younger than the last time Hermione had seen her. Still, a sigh of relief came from her lips like a puncture in a balloon, deflating the panic in her chest. The expulsion of air brought everything rushing back to her, the bizarre and surreal conversation with the headmaster and Professor Snape, the boy in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's hand went to her pocket and she found the letter Professor Dumbledore had given her. "I need to speak to the headmaster."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "You need to rest and recuperate, child."

"No." She swung her feet out of bed, placing them on the floor. "I need to see the headmaster. It's urgent."

"Do relax, Miss." Albus Dumbledore, looking almost identical to the Dumbledore of Hermione's time, approached the hospital bed and smiled at her. "Madam Pomfrey is correct. You need to rest."

Hermione fished out the letter and offered it to him. "I don't know what it says, sir, but it will explain... well, me, to you."

Professor Dumbledore took it with an amiable smile. "I will peruse this later. It's quite late, and I do believe we all must be off to bed."

And with that he left. She lay back in her hospital bed and stared at the off-white ceiling, her mind racing with panic as her situation began to sink in for her. She might be stuck here. She might never see Harry and Ron again. Her parents... oh God, her parents.

Madam Pomfrey reappeared and forced a bottle of shimmering purple liquid into her hands. "Drink it," she prompted.

It was the first time Hermione truly desired the overwhelming effects of a sleeping draught. She downed the whole thing, grateful for the numbness that came on immediately. She fell asleep as the world faded around her.

When she woke, though her situation inevitably rushed back to her mind, Hermione felt much better, almost surreally calm. She also woke to the Headmaster studying her over steepled fingers, his piercing blue eyes pondering. He smiled as she sat up in her bed.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. It is October the 13th, 1975. How are you feeling? I daresay there are side-effects of time travel that are less than pleasant."

His immediate acceptance of her brought a flush of wonderful warmth flooding through Hermione's body. He believed her. She sucked in a breath of relief and exhaled slowly. "I feel fine, Headmaster. Much better than yesterday."

"My future self has advised me to place you in your fifth year to ensure you do not miss out on an education. I understand education is very important to you, Miss Granger."

She nodded, the unreality of the situation beginning to take over.

Dumbledore continued, "Very good. You will start classes tomorrow. The cleverest witch of her age... I must say, that is not a description I would give lightly."

Classes. Hogwarts. Remus Lupin. Her sharp mind immediately began to connect the dots of a truly bizarre situation. She'd met her former Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor... years before she'd met him in her own time. Had he recognized her? And Professor Snape, with his odd treatment of her and his impassioned plea...

_Forgive me._

"But sir," she said faintly, hardly aware of herself speaking, only knowing that she needed to communicate this to him, "I can't just... I can't be here. I can't go to school. I know several current students, what if I-"

"Miss Granger. In your time what is occurring now has already occurred. Thus I am led to believe that no damage will be done by your presence. And you cannot simply put your life on hold until we find a way to send you back. It may take months. Years, even. I don't mean to upset you," he said quietly. "I have arranged your sleeping quarters, classes, and school supplies, so you needn't worry about that. You're fluent in French, correct?"

_"Your French is appalling..."_

"Erm, yes..." She found herself rather preoccupied with thoughts of Professor Snape, cold, callous Professor Snape, and the very brief reassurance he'd given her, the rational and welcome advice, and the hug. "Professor... sir..."

"You are a transfer student from Beauxbatons," the headmaster said smoothly, patting her shoulder. "And if you're feeling well enough, lunch is almost over and afternoon classes start in ten minutes."

She would find young Snape, go to him and... and what? Ask if he would like to be friends? Hadn't he been interested in the Dark Arts when he was younger? She had no real excuse to talk to him, and besides that she couldn't tell him anything, couldn't truly talk to him... and it was madness anyhow. Snape, a friend? Severus Snape? She would make one more go of explaining to the headmaster that she couldn't do this. "Professor Dumbledore-"

"No time like the present, Miss Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

** A/N" I'm a lazy hack. Updates will be sporadic as all hell. Thank you so very much for all the feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter #2<strong>

**Time Does Not, In Fact,**

**Change People**

She would be sick. Her stomach was heaving unpleasantly and her throat felt tight and she could taste, very faintly, a hint of bile. She managed, miraculously, to find her way to Arithmancy without having a panic attack, and when she stepped into the classroom and breathed the scent of old books and oak desks, Hermione felt herself begin to relax, to unwind just slightly. It would be alright. She could do this. She would keep to herself. Let Severus Snape come to her, if they were to become friends. She would not socialize. She would not draw attention to herself. She would be unassuming, invisible, silent unless someone addressed her.

Her solid plan to be inconspicuous promptly unravelled two minutes before class started. She sat at the front, though in the far right corner rather than dead-centre as she usually did. She kept her eyes on the blackboard, didn't hear the seat next to her become occupied until a textbook was dumped unceremoniously onto the desk. She jerked her head back, startled, and looked up at her new classmate.

"Hey, it's you." Soft blue eyes regarded her curiously, and Remus Lupin sat down beside her.

Hermione couldn't breathe. Remus Lupin. She knew him. He knew her. He had known, then. Who else? Twenty years from now, how many people were walking around with memories of her? He looked so young, so different yet exactly the same. He was pale and thin, all arms and legs with a mop of light brown hair that had not a hint of grey in it. She had to say something, he would think something was wrong with her if she just continued to stare at him. She'd said his name, the last time she saw him. Fake ignorance, then. "Sorry?"

His smile was forgiving. "It was quite late. We ran into each other in the common room last night. Professor Dumbledore mentioned you at breakfast. Transfer student, right?"

Her heart slowed considerably. Was he... letting her off the hook? Or had he not noticed that she'd known his name? He'd been tired, after all, and it had been very late. "Right," she said weakly.

"You fainted," he said.

"Portkey malfunction," she supplied, wanting to kick herself. Why hadn't she rehearsed this? In all fairness, it wasn't as though she'd had time for that, but still. "Umm..."

"Remus Lupin." He offered his hand, and she shook it politely.

"Hermione Granger."

His eyebrows quirked up. "You're not French?"

She was not French. And she was not a good liar. Not at all. But she was a Gryffindor, and she had courage, and she could do this. She could... what choice did she have? "No, I'm from South London." Stick to the truth as much as possible. She was _not_ a good liar.

He smiled yet again- she liked that he smiled so easily, but it made her sad as well- and flipped open his textbook. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. If you like I can give you a brief introduction to the unit we're working on."

Hermione agreed to this readily enough, and by the time Professor Vector (looking ridiculously young, and damn it, how many adults in her life had been keeping this whole time travel business from her?) walked into the classroom she was feeling quite cozy next to Remus Lupin.

"Attendance, students. Black, Sirius?"

She was feeling sick again. Could not do this. Just could not be around all these people, so young and untouched by the turbulent future-

"Mr. Lupin?" Professor Vector frowned at the young werewolf.

"No idea," Remus said with a shrug. "Maybe he's ill."

The teacher sighed. It seemed a well-versed reaction, one she'd had often. On with the attendance record. Then- "Evans, Lily?"

"Present."

Oh, she was definitely going to be sick.

"Granger, Hermione?"

"That's you," Remus muttered in her ear.

"Present," she said, trying not to breathe lest it induce a vomiting episode.

"Welcome to Arithmancy," Vector said briskly.

Hermione tuned the teacher out for a while and tried to regain control over her stomach. She could do this, it was only the first day after all. The first ten minutes. She could do this.

"Snape, Severus?"

"Present." Bored, lazy voice. Like silk. Snape. Professor Snape. She had to stop herself from turning around in her seat to glance at him.

She spent the next fifteen minutes trying to calm herself, well-aware that Remus Lupin was watching her out of the corner of his eye, concerned and perhaps a bit weirded out. Should she make conversation with him? She certainly wanted to, felt a morbid fascination about the whole thing, but hadn't she told herself she would keep a low profile?

"You'll be partnering up to solve the set of equations on the board," Professor Vector announced. "Miss Evans and Mr. Snape, don't forget to show your work this time, for my sake."

"Well," said Remus Lupin, a shy but warm smile on his face as he turned to her, "would you like to work with me?"

"I'd love to," she said despite herself. It slipped out. It just rolled off of her tongue. But then, what was the harm, really? She was stuck here. What happened had already happened, so to speak. She wasn't going to change anything. But was Remus good at Arithmancy? She had no idea. It wouldn't bother her if he wasn't all that good at it; she knew her own knowledge would get them both through the lesson. Focus on her studies. That was what she would do. Focus.

"I think we should invert this set." Soft, silky voice. Snape.

"But we'll have to invert the whole thing anyway before..."

Lily Potter. Hermione tuned her out. Didn't want to listen to Harry's dead mother. Wait... Why was Lily Potter- or rather, Evans- working with Snape? She was wrong about inversions but that hardly mattered. Snape, working with Harry's mother. Made no sense. But she couldn't get involved with these people, she couldn't...

"... divide the tertiary..."

Hermione turned around. She couldn't help it. And there they were, huddled quite close and looking for all the world like bosom buddies, and her first thought was how... nice, Snape looked. Handsome even, relatively speaking. Compared to his older self. Lily Evans, with hair most girls could only dream of having and a complexion surprisingly clear and smooth. Snape had a small zit on his chin, and for some reason Hermione found that one small zit incredibly endearing. "Umm... I hate to interrupt," she said, "but you're supposed to divide with the secondary set..." She trailed off, because they were both staring at her like she had three heads.

Snape reacted first, looking down and checking his work. He didn't say anything, so she assumed she was right and had just corrected Severus Snape. Wonder of wonders. She smiled at both of them kindly, though her heart was pounding, and returned to her own work with Remus Lupin. This wasn't so difficult, interacting with these people. She didn't know the Snape sitting behind her. She could correct him, say hello, smile at him.

"Brilliant," Remus murmured appreciatively. "Hermione, you're brilliant. I might pass this class after all. Do you think you could find the time to tutor me?" His still-round cheeks flushed. Endearing. Like Snape's little spot. Oh, they were so innocent and so promising.

What would she be like in twenty years? Old, sad, half of her friends dead...

"Sorry, I suppose I'm coming off a bit pushy," he added quickly.

"Not at all," she said, and touched his shoulder to show he didn't need to feel as though she was a stranger. He'd had a rough time at Hogwarts, she knew. Afraid of what others might think, what they might find out. "I'd be happy to help, Remus."

He flushed pink again and grinned.

So much for invisibility. But maybe it was worth it. After all, though this might be her present, it was Remus Lupin's past. It had already happened. She could do nothing, change nothing... and she felt suddenly powerless. She bowed her head and stared down at her textbook. She could befriend her future Professor, but she couldn't help him. The rest of the lesson passed by in a blur, Hermione answering her new study partner's questions with monosyllabic noises ranging from "hmm" to "umhm."

She made it through her afternoon classes, somehow. It was all a blur, and she felt dizzy, and all she could do was hold on to Remus Lupin's offered arm as they walked from class to class, and then to the common room. Thank god for Remus. He was so kind, so peaceful, a refuge in the constantly spinning world she'd been dropped in.

"You should sit with us at dinner," he said as they walked towards the Great Hall. "If James and Sirius show up, of course. I can't imagine them skipping dinner."

Hermione wanted to sink right through the floor and disappear. She managed to say something in response, though she wasn't sure what word came out of her mouth. Remus... her future teacher. He was so sweet, so _young_. She'd struggled all day to reconcile this Remus Lupin with the one she knew, and finally gave up halfway through Charms (James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew were conspicuously absent, not that she had wanted to meet them...), realizing she wouldn't get anywhere making comparisons. The person she'd known was an adult, a teacher with twenty years of life that this boy didn't have. They were the same person, yet they weren't. She would have to accept that.

"Do they miss class often?" she asked as they walked down the main staircase. Her hand tightened on his arm; she needed the support, walking into a Great Hall packed with ghosts. With teachers and murdered parents and godfathers, death eaters and spies.

Remus smiled. "No. I'm not sure where they are today. But McGonagall isn't going to be happy- she'll probably give them detention _and_ take house points."

"You don't sound all that surprised," she said.

His good-natured smile stretched even further. "You're very clever, you know that?"

"In some ways."

"James and Sirius are sort of... unpredictable. But they're wonderful friends. They would do anything for you if you needed them." His voice grew quiet and his smile became almost sad.

Hermione worried her lower lip for a moment, wanting to pity him but knowing he wouldn't want that. She deliberated for a moment, searching for the right words. She couldn't let him know that she knew he was a werewolf. That would be foolish. Then again... she wasn't certain. That was the problem. She had no idea what to do, what her boundaries were, to what extent she would have an effect on the past. She had only the word of her Potions Master, and nothing else to really go on. She was lost. In so many ways, she was utterly lost.

"Any friend worth their salt would do anything for you, if you needed them to," she said finally, scanning the Great Hall, her heart pounding. She caught the eye of a willowy blonde Ravenclaw, who glanced at her hand clutching Remus's arm and raised her fine blonde eyebrows.

"Hi Remus!" she called.

"Hullo," he muttered. Hermione didn't miss the sudden flush of colour that bloomed on his cheeks.

"Friend of yours?" she asked mildly.

"Erm..." He scratched his head and smiled shyly.

"She fancies you?"

"I doubt it."

"Why's that?" It felt good to focus on this rather than the impending encounter with her best friend's father, godfather, and the man who turned traitor on the Potters. This was simple and innocent.

Remus shrugged awkwardly and led her to the Gryffindor table. She kept her head down, eyes on the floor, breathing in measured breaths, counting backwards with each exhale. She wasn't going to do any damage here.

But they could damage her.

"There they are." He tugged her along gently. She couldn't look at the Gryffindor table. She stared at her shoes.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, Remus?"

"This is Hermione. Hermione, these are my friends James and Sirius."

Like ripping off a band-aid, she told herself. Do it quick and get over it. She looked up and smiled. "Hi," she said, catching James Potter's hazel eyes first.

"You must be the new girl," he said.

She nodded and tried not to stare at him. He was so familiar. It yanked on her heartstrings, how familiar his face was to her. Just like Harry. The same nose, the same cheeks, the same raven hair sticking up in the back. Familiar, but different. He smiled differently than Harry. His voice was different. "Hermione Granger," she said, offering her hand.

He shook it politely. "Care to join us for dinner? I'm sure Remus won't mind sharing you." He held on to her hand and dragged her into the seat next to him.

Her shoulder rubbed against somebody else's and she turned her head to acknowledge him, but her words caught in her throat. Sirius Black. She knew she would run into him eventually, especially since she'd fallen in with Remus so easily, but she hadn't done a thing to prepare herself for it.

Sirius was... well, he was handsome.

"Hello," he said, not bothering to move over and give her more space. Her leg brushed up against his and she blushed.

"Hi."

Remus flopped down on the other side of the Gryffindor table and gave her a supportive grin. "Where were you two?"

"We had a bit of a problem," James said, lowering his voice, "with... you know. Pete won't leave the dormitory. He's... sort of malfunctioned."

Remus looked appalled. "Why didn't you take him to the hospital wing?"

"That would go over well." Sirius grabbed a pitcher of pumpkin juice and filled Hermione's goblet, then his own. "So Hermione, what do you think of Hogwarts?"

"It's..." She grasped for some recollection of how the students from Beauxbatons had reacted to Hogwarts, "different." Peter Pettigrew, malfunctioned? What could that possibly mean? And why wouldn't they take him to the hospital wing if he was hurt? And why wouldn't Sirius give her even an inch of space? Their legs were pressed up against each other and her elbow kept knocking against his. And he seemed to be enjoying it; there was a mischievous gleam in his stormy grey eyes.

"It's a pretty big school. Easy to get turned around. You just come to me if you need anything, yeah?" He knocked his elbow against hers and smirked.

"Take it easy, Sirius," James said.

Hermione's mind wandered towards the Slytherin table in an attempt to distract herself. Professor Snape. She was quite sure there would be little chance of her becoming friends with him if she spent much time with this particular group of students. Which reminded her of the strange little interaction she'd witnessed in Arithmancy. "Hey Remus," she said, "you know the boy sitting behind us in Arithmancy?"

"You mean Snape?" Remus asked, leaning forward across the table.

"He hasn't given you any trouble, has he?" Sirius straightened up and glanced at the Slytherin table with obvious distaste.

"No, no," said Hermione quickly, "nothing like that. I was just wondering... I mean, I heard that Slytherins and Gryffindors are sort of house rivals, but I saw him-" Somebody's foot collided with her shin. "Ouch!"

Sirius coughed. "Erm, right. Well-"

"It doesn't bother me," James said loudly, "honestly."

"What doesn't bother you?" Hermione asked, glancing between the two best friends.

"Evans and Snape," he muttered, suddenly becoming quite interested in his dinner.

She realized belatedly that she shouldn't have brought up a subject that so obviously touched a nerve with Harry's father. Curiosity got the better of her, of course, so she turned to Sirius and asked softly, "They're friends?"

"That depends on who's present," Sirius whispered back. "Snape's really taken with Slytherin values- you know, pureblood superiority and all that. Lily Evans is muggle-born. It's a bit of a scandal around here, actually. Loads of gossip and all that. Personally," he stabbed a roasted potato with his fork and chewed on it thoughtfully, "I don't see what the big deal is."

"I think she just feels sorry for him," James said casually.

"They're just friends." Remus glanced down the Gryffindor table at Lily Evans, who was sitting with several other girls and chatting away amiably, unaware that she was the subject of gossip several feet away. "It shouldn't be so strange that a Gryffindor and Slytherin can get along."

"It's strange that anyone could get along with Snape." James Potter's voice had taken on a sulky tone.

Hermione decided it was long past time for a change of subject. She searched her mind for something to talk about, something that would distract the now-sulking boy beside her. What did these three enjoy? Making mischief, of course, but how could she start a conversation about that? Nighttime adventures with a werewolf wouldn't make good dinner conversation either. She pushed food around on her plate, aware of the stifling silence that had fallen over the four of them. Out of desperation she blurted, "Anyone play quidditch?"

Sirius snorted and sprayed pumpkin juice all over his plate.

"Very nice," Remus muttered, throwing his napkin at the other boy. "Are you hit, Hermione?"

"No, I'm alright." She took her own napkin and dabbed at some juice that had landed on the edge of her plate. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I didn't realize it was such a sensitive topic for you."

He coughed and wiped at his face with the napkin. "No worries."

Hermione was quite amused at the sheer amount of colour on display in his cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"Yeah, I got that. Really subtle, by the way. I envy your finesse." He looked down at his ruined dinner and grinned. "Pumpkin-glazed ham, I've never heard of such a thing." And he went about eating it anyway.

"Ugh." Remus shook his head. "Sirius, your table manners have gotten progressively worse since first year."

"Ah well."

As dinner progressed Hermione felt herself slowly begin to unwind. By the time they'd gotten up to retreat to the common room, her chest had loosened up and her stomach had settled down and all in all, she felt that she could breathe for the first time in twenty-four hours. The three friends asked surprisingly few questions and didn't press her for information. Remus was an absolute sweetheart, James was an absolute clown, and Sirius seemed to hover somewhere in the middle. She liked them instantly, though her judgement was probably impaired by the fact that she knew two of them already, and liked their future-selves. Well, most of the time she liked Sirius. Sometimes she wondered if his twelve years in Azkaban had affected him more than he let on. She felt horrible for thinking it, but he seemed a bit unstable.

At fifteen years old, Sirius Black was a flirt. She hadn't recognized it at first, because frankly no boy had ever flirted with her so shamelessly. He was constantly finding ways to touch her- brushing his hand against hers, rubbing shoulders, slapping her back playfully. He went so far as to tug on a lock of her bushy hair, prompting her to squeal and James to give him a sharp reprimand.

"Let her at least settle in before you start on the poor bird," he said as they climbed into the Gryffindor common room. Hermione couldn't recall ever being quite so happy to be here. It felt like home.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius said innocently. "So Hermione, parlez vous francais?"

"And he breaks out the French," said Remus, snickering along with James.

"Oui, of course," Hermione said.

_"Your French is appalling..."_

Professor Snape...

"I myself am fluent. Not by choice, of course."

Toujours pur...

"Not by choice?"

"It was sort of forced on me. My family is big on tradition. Mind you, they're also big on being crazy."

"Keep that in mind, Hermione. It'll go a long way towards understanding him," said James.

"Hey now," Sirius said sharply.

"Sorry, that was out of line."

Hermione stifled a yawn. "Thank you for being so welcoming," she said to the three boys. "I would have been lost without you, Remus."

The young werewolf blushed and ducked his head, grinning. "Not a problem, Hermione. So when can we get together for some tutoring?"

"How about tomorrow at 4:30?" She would have to get at least ten hours of sleep tonight if she was going to be of any help to Remus. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Dinner had only served to make her even more tired and feeling incredibly lazy.

"Sounds good."

"I could use some tutoring as well," said Sirius.

"Really?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I was under the impression you do very well in all of your classes."

He shrugged, winking at her shamelessly. "I'm sure there's a thing or two you could teach me."

She felt her cheeks heat up. "We'll see. I'm sorry, but I'm really very tired. I'm going to go to bed early. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Fair enough," James said, giving Sirius a look.

"See you tomorrow," said Remus.

"Sweet dreams," Sirius added.

Hermione waved them goodnight, climbed the stairs to the fifth year girls' dormitory, and sat on her new bed. It felt alien to her, the mattress too firm, the duvet too scratchy, and she missed her old bed. There was a trunk stuffed with everything she needed; she grabbed a pair of pyjamas and changed into them, then brushed out her hair. Her head was starting to spin again, now that she was alone with her thoughts. She wondered what Professor Dumbledore would say to Harry and Ron. She wondered why Sirius and Professor Lupin had never breathed a word to her. Were they bribed into silence? Threatened? Or had they simply agreed not to say anything?

But her first encounter with Sirius, two years ago in the Shrieking Shack... how could he just stand there and not say anything, not even give a sign that he recognized her?

And Professor Snape. She didn't even know where to begin with him. She felt an odd sort of pressure to befriend him; for those brief minutes in Dumbledore's office, he had been so sincere, so... likeable. And kind. And she felt something she never would have imagined herself feeling for the cold, callous Potions Master- gratitude.

She respected him, of course. She respected all of her teachers. But she was under no false pretences concerning his treatment of her and her fellow Gryffindors. He was unfair, and often cruel. She never thought she would be grateful to have him around.

Hermione did her best thinking when she was alone. Unfortunately she only had about twenty minutes of privacy before she heard someone climbing the stairs to the dormitory. The door flew open and Lily Evans came in, slamming the door behind her. She didn't notice Hermione at first, obviously thinking she was alone, because she kicked a pile of clothing angrily and threw herself on her bed.

"Erm," said Hermione.

The redhead jerked up and stared at her in surprise. "Oh... hi."

"Sorry..." she trailed off awkwardly.

"No, it's alright. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." The girl blushed and curled her legs up against her chest, hugging her knees. Her brilliant green eyes, Harry's eyes, were gleaming. She was crying.

"I can leave if you need some privacy."

"No... Sorry for storming in here." She wiped at her eyes and mustered a friendly smile. "We haven't met yet. I'm Lily."

"Hermione. Are you alright?"

"I will be. Just... ugh." Lily sniffed and uncurled her legs. She was a stunningly pretty girl. "I don't understand people sometimes."

Hermione had never been very skilled at getting along with other girls, but she was curious. Of course she was. This girl was her best friend's mother. She took a wild stab at getting to know Lily Evans. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lily looked up at her in surprise. "Well... I don't know," she began apprehensively. "It's complicated."

"Maybe if you start at the beginning," Hermione suggested.

"Well... have you ever had to defend somebody, over and over again, against almost everyone you know?"

"Yes, actually." _Your son, when everyone thought he was trying to kill muggle-born students._

"I have this friend, you see... and all of my other friends hate him. But he's been my best friend since we were little. He's the one who told me about the wizarding world. He's been there for me whenever I need him. He's a wonderful person... I just wish he would let others see that."

She could only be talking about Severus Snape. All this information was almost too much for Hermione to bear. Professor Snape and Harry's mother, childhood friends? It made no sense. "It sounds like he's lucky to have somebody to defend him," she said finally.

Lily gave her a watery smile. "His name is Severus. You met him today- he was working with me in Arithmancy class. He was a little miffed with you, actually. Sev isn't used to being corrected."

Sev. Hermione very nearly laughed. She couldn't imagine anyone calling the dark, imposing Professor Snape _Sev_. "I was just trying to help."

"Oh, I know. He's just... well, he prides himself on his academics." Lily shrugged. "Anyway, I hate having to defend him over and over again. I hate having to explain my friendship with him. I shouldn't have to! Why is it so weird that I'm friends with him? He's a good person."

"I'm sure some people just don't understand. Maybe they never will." Hermione had to stifle another yawn, not wanting to come off as rude.

"I'm sorry, you must be exhausted. And here I am just blathering on about my problems. How was your first day?"

"It was good. Remus Lupin was wonderful- he helped me get to all of my classes and sat beside me, and invited me to have dinner with him and his friends."

"He's the only decent one out of that lot," Lily said quietly. "Anyway, I've got a study session to get to. I'll have to face those gits eventually. I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay." She watched the redhead leave, then laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her head was positively spinning again, whirling with the overload of information she'd just been given. She felt sick once more, but she was so tired that she couldn't bring herself to do a thing about it. She buried her head under her pillows and let herself drift off; her last waking thought was that she would kill for a dreamless, uninterrupted sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

** A/N: I am deeply grateful for the feedback. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter #3<strong>

**Nothing Is Pointless **

**But It's All Possibly Inappropriate**

**...And Pointless**

When Hermione woke the next morning everything felt deceptively normal. She showered, changed into her school robes, and gathered her things for class before heading down for breakfast. And with that, spiralled back into a state of disorientation.

Remus waved at her from his seat at the Gryffindor table, and Hermione sat beside him gratefully. "Good morning," she said, pouring herself some orange juice and filling her plate with pancakes.

"Morning. Sleep well?" He handed her the maple syrup.

"Surprisingly, yes." She looked around, a mixture of unease and excitement brewing in her stomach. "Where are your friends?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're around."

Hermione chewed her lip and tried to focus on eating. But the idea that she just would not be able to adjust to this, the idea that she might fail at simply getting on with things, kept niggling at her mind. Was sleep going to be her only escape from this dreadful reeling sensation? Would it ever fade? Or would she have to readjust to the world every single day, until she found her way back to her own time? "Did you work out that... malfunction?"

Remus laughed. "Yeah, eventually."

She considered pressing him for details, but decided against it, electing instead to scope out the Slytherin table in search of Snape. And there he was, sitting by himself at the far end of the table with a book propped open on his lap and a cup of tea sitting in front of him. He looked so at peace with himself- Hermione envied him.

"Things got a little hairy, didn't they Pete?" James Potter slid into his seat across from Remus, followed by a pudgy blond boy. His round cheeks flushed pink and he grinned.

"Nothing serious," he said.

She shuddered and looked down at her pancakes. They didn't look at all appetizing anymore. She didn't want to see Peter Pettigrew. She didn't want to see him and James Potter having breakfast and being friends. It made her feel sick to her stomach. Just the thought of him.

_ Can't do this..._

She excused herself as politely as possible and dashed up the main staircase, one hand hovering over her mouth in case she really did get sick. As she rounded the corner at the top of the staircase and made to go to the library, something snaked around her middle and yanked her backwards firmly. She stumbled and nearly lost her balance. "Hey!" she cried, her hand going automatically to her wand.

"It's just me," her attacker said, releasing her so she could turn around and see him.

"Sirius! What are you doing?" Hermione released her wand and rubbed her middle gently. She avoided looking at him, afraid that she would find herself back in the Shrieking Shack with a gaunt, starving convict, listening to him deliver a mad tale about rats and spies.

"Funny you should ask," he said, throwing his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her against him. "I was just on my way to breakfast. Care to join me?"

She slipped out from under his arm, still avoiding his eyes. "I've already eaten."

"That's a shame." He turned on his heel and followed her down the corridor. "Where are you going?"

Hermione sighed and looked up at him. Any and all thoughts about future-Sirius dissolved as she met his good-humoured grey eyes, and she couldn't help but smile at him. "Why do you want to know? Aren't you going to have breakfast?"

Sirius shook his head, his glossy hair swinging with the movement. "No, I'd much rather spend the morning with you." He looked up and smiled at a group of approaching girls. "Morning Alice," he called, "Edith, Marlene."

"Good morning Sirius," a blonde girl with freckles called back. The other two giggled and lowered their heads.

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, not because she felt sick, but rather to stop the laughter threatening to burst out. Apparently it wasn't just her, then, that prompted the young Sirius Black to be overly flirtatious. She dwelt on that idea for a moment and realized she didn't like it. Not that she liked him flirting with her. On the contrary, it was rather annoying. And nothing special, apparently. "You don't want to spend the morning with me," she said finally. "I'm going to the library."

Sirius gave her a look of indignation. "What are you implying? You think I can't read?"

"No, no..." She backtracked and shook her head. "Look, there are plenty of other girls you can flirt with."

"You don't like me?"

"No, it's not that-"

"So you do like me?"

"I don't know you," she answered shortly.

He threw his arm around her shoulders once more and gave her a charming smile. "Which is why I want to spend the morning with you. There, we've come full circle and now we understand each other, yes?"

Hermione stared back at him helplessly. He was a barely-contained ball of energy and mischief, with a level of sweetness that surprised her. The Sirius she knew was good-humoured, kind, but not this. She supposed being in Azkaban had probably sucked all of the optimism right out of him; that thought made her ache for him, and when he squeezed her shoulders once more she gave in and didn't brush him off. "I suppose, but I'm not very exciting, Sirius. I'm just going to check a book out before class."

He dropped his arm from her shoulders as they entered the library. "Nonsense, that sounds riveting."

* * *

><p>"Wrong," she whispered, her eyes gleaming, "this is wrong."<p>

He ran his hand along her firm, round thigh, pushing her skirt up. "No it's not."

They were on his bed. She sat on top of him, straddling him, her hips pressing against his with just enough friction to drive him mad. Her hair was a tangled mess- they'd been rolling around, laughing and kissing and teasing, and it had been good, enticing and fun. But she was somber now, and sad. He didn't know how to react when she got like this, because he didn't know why her mood could change so suddenly.

She looked away, staring out his dormitory window. When she spoke her voice held the weight of unbearable fact. "It is, though." She turned back to him, lowered her head and brushed her lips against his. He rolled her onto her back and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her troubles forgotten; she giggled when he ran his hands along her body, tickling her.

She murmured something in his ear, but it was lost to him. He sat upright, grasping at the fragments of his dream, but they escaped him easily. He slumped back into the sofa, his head pounding ruthlessly, rattling his skull.

"Sirius, wake up."

"Go away."

"Pull yourself together." Two hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him, then yanked him off of the sofa. He caught his footing and sat up, cradling his head in his hands.

"Urgh.."

"Getting pissed is not going to help, you know."

"Go away, I said."

"Look," Remus sat on the sofa beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder, "you're not alone with this. I know how it feels, Sirius."

"No you don't. Did you fall in love with her? Did you sleep with her and spend every waking minute wishing you were with her, and-"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me, alright?"

Finally he straightened up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and scowling at his friend. "Help you with what?"

"This." Remus pointed at two large stacks of books. "God knows we should have done this a long time ago, but given the circumstances-"

"I was in prison."

"Yes, and now the Dark Lord has returned so I think we're forgiven for not doing this sooner."

"What _are_ we doing? And I'm not doing it before I have some coffee, mind."

Remus waved his wand and a tray loaded with coffee, cream, sugar, and mugs appeared. "We are investigating. This is everything I could find on time travel."

"I was having the most wonderful dream, you know." Sirius poured himself some coffee and added a heaping spoonful of sugar. "I was sixteen again."

Remus gave him a severe look. "You might do well to remember that you're not sixteen. And she's only fifteen."

As if he needed to be reminded of that. "I was sixteen in my dream."

"Sirius..."

The both of them lapsed into silence. Remus picked up a book and flipped to the table of contents. It was a silent request that they drop the subject. Sirius drank half of his coffee in one go and tried to forget the memories that traipsed through his mind. He'd seen what they did to sex criminals in Azkaban. He'd done it himself, beaten the daylights out of some predator during exercise period while two others held the bastard down. No human guards, and the Dementors certainly didn't care about that sort of thing.

He shivered and pushed away all thoughts about Azkaban.

"Maybe you and Severus Snape should get together for tea sometime. You know he would understand what you're going through."

"Remus, comments like that make me think you really are loony."

His friend chuckled and kept reading.

He gave in and voiced his deepest concern, the fear that had plagued him for two years now. "What if she doesn't come back?"

Remus shook his head. "Don't think like that."

But Sirius couldn't help it.

* * *

><p>Hermione was feeling quite torn by the last class of the day, which happened to be double Potions. She had taken Professor Snape's word in good faith and felt it was the only advice she had to go on, but she couldn't imagine befriending her young teacher under the circumstances she found herself in now. She sat next to Sirius Black- who refused, yet again, to give her any elbow room- and glanced furtively at Severus Snape.<p>

Normally of course, she would be paying attention to the teacher, but there were numerous obstacles standing in the way of learning. Firstly and most bizarrely, she found Professor Slughorn made the subject dull and uninteresting. For the first ten minutes of class she couldn't quite pin down her disinterest, until finally it occurred to her as she glanced furtively at Snape. She missed her old Potions teacher. She missed Professor Snape. That both startled and disturbed her.

Secondly she couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that next to Severus Snape sat Lily Evans. If anyone had told her two days ago that Snape and Harry's mother were friends at school, she would have laughed. She would have said they had the wrong Snape. But Lily Evans was sitting on the Slytherin side of the classroom and whispering to her friend, and they looked quite cozy together.

Also derailing her education today was the boy sitting beside her, and the boys behind her as well, for that matter. They were loud (except for Remus) and distracting. Boys like that usually annoyed Hermione, but today she found them too entertaining. Sirius was running every joke he knew by her, one after another, until she was a pink-faced mess.

"What did the grape say when it got stepped on?"

She shook her head helplessly.

"Nothing. It just let out a little wine."

She snorted and had to clap her hand over her mouth. Glancing at Snape, she locked eyes with him and he scowled at her deeply. She blushed and stopped laughing.

"Sirius, I need to focus on the lesson-"

"Good luck," James Potter said.

"Misters Potter and Black, entertaining the general populace again?"

"Sorry sir." James sounded contrite. Hermione didn't buy it for a second.

"Just being a good host, sir," Sirius added.

"I'm sure," Slughorn said dryly.

Hermione lowered her head and focused on her textbook. An elbow nudged her ribs and she lifted her head to frown at him, but his mischievous grin caught her off-guard and she giggled. "Sirius- please let me work."

By the end of class she was in awe.

Both Sirius and James had finished their work. Not only had they finished it, they got high marks. She herself got a 96, which left her feeling slightly dizzy. In all her years she'd never gotten more than a 90 in potions. She would be spoilt once she got home and had Snape as a teacher again. It was rumoured he never gave more than a 95 in his entire career as Potions Master. She believed it.

"You doubted me?" Sirius asked as he rinsed out his cauldron at the sink.

"No, of course not. I just didn't expect you to get the mark you did."

"I know, brains _and_ beauty." He smiled and took her cauldron from her. "And what are you doing, eavesdropping?" he hissed over Hermione's shoulder. The vitriol in his voice startled her. She turned around and locked eyes with Snape yet again. He was standing right behind her.

"You would think so, wouldn't you? Don't worry, Black. You're not that interesting."

Hermione felt the tension in the air and had the strangest urge to back away from the two boys. But Lily Evans stepped between her and Snape, and glared at Sirius, her green eyes flashing. He shrugged and stacked Hermione's cauldron with the rest, then walked away. She had to give him credit for that. Sirius Black did not seem like the type to walk away.

"I don't know how you can sit near them. They're so distracting," Lily said pleasantly.

Hermione ran her hands under the icy jet of water to give them a quick washing. "My two best friends are boys. I suppose I'm used to it." She knew she ought to at least try speaking to Snape, but she couldn't. She didn't know what to say to him. Though the roundness in his face certainly made him much less intimidating, his deep black eyes were reproachful as she remembered.

Except for those few brief moments in Dumbledore's office, when he'd fixed her with his unfathomable gaze. She'd seen affection, fondness... maybe even love.

"Are you enjoying classes?" Lily asked.

This subject, at least, was one she could go into elaborate detail on. "Oh, of course. Hogwarts has excellent teachers. Though Professor Slughorn," she lowered her voice, "is a bit boring. My old Potions teacher had us studying this in fourth year. He was a wonderful teacher."

"He does drone on, doesn't he?" Lily glanced at her quiet friend uncertainly. He turned away from them and began rinsing his own cauldron, apparently disinterested, which was rather amusing seeing as he'd just been paid a compliment.

Hermione decided she may as well trust her old Potions teacher, seeing as how she thought so highly of him. "We haven't met yet. I'm Hermione."

He raised one fine dark eyebrow, that signature look that she was so accustomed to. But on his young face it looked comically nonthreatening. "And?"

Lily gave him a slightly exasperated look.

"You must be Severus," Hermione said.

"And?" he repeated snidely, glancing up as he finished rinsing his cauldron.

Lily sighed. "I'll see you after dinner, Sev," she said, giving Hermione a rather apologetic smile as she left.

Hermione dried her hands on the front of her robes and tried to think of something to say. Academics... Snape was interested in academics. They had that in common. "Did you get a good grade on today's work?"

"You don't have to talk to me," he said, stacking his cauldron with the others and proceeding to wash his hands. "I don't know why you're bothering."

She stood there for a few seconds while he washed his hands. He was obviously antisocial, and she didn't want to push him to the point of anger. Maybe it would be best if she let things unfold naturally, rather than try to push things in the direction she thought they ought to go.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I'll see you around, then... Severus." She turned to go.

"97," he muttered.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Sorry?"

"I got a 97." He kept his eyes on his hands, which he washed thoroughly. "You?"

"96," she said.

For the first time the corner of his mouth lifted, almost smiling. "That's too bad." He shook his hands, sending droplets spraying everywhere, and walked past her without another word.

Hermione stared after him. It had been a short, pointless conversation, and yet she felt she'd accomplished something huge in having that brief exchange. She left the dungeons feeling much better than she'd felt going down there. She'd accomplished something today. It was the smallest accomplishment, nothing worth celebrating, yet her mood climbed so quickly it left her feeling slightly giddy.

She would pursue small accomplishments, then. Perhaps that would stop her from going mad, if she ignored the big picture, the problem of her being stuck in the past, and focused on finding solutions to little problems. Remus, for example. He needed help in Arithmancy. She could do that. She could tutor him and keep him company, show him that it didn't matter, him being a werewolf- she only cared about who he was, not what he was.

Resolved to make the best of her situation, she entered the Gryffindor common room with a smile on her face and looked around in search of the werewolf in question, and spotted him descending the stairs of the boys' dormitory.

"Hi," she said, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey Hermione," he pulled a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate out of his pocket, "do you like chocolate?"

Some things never changed. That made her feel good, and safe as well, somehow. Remus Lupin carried chocolate with him, and he always would. "Of course."

"This is from Honeyduke's, it's a sweets shop in Hogsmeade. They're the best." He broke the bar in half and offered her some, which she took and devoured immediately.

"Mmm," she said when she realized he was watching her expectantly. "It's amazing. Shall we go to the library, then? It might be quieter there."

He laughed. "It'll be much quieter there, once James and Sirius get back."

"Where did they go?"

"Lord knows." Remus fell in step with her and they left the common room arm-in-arm; she liked how easily familiar it was being with him, how comfortable it was to just link arms with him and stroll through Hogwarts. "You look different," he said.

"Different?"

He glanced at her shyly. "I haven't seen you look this happy before."

"Oh..." Hermione blushed. "Thank you, I think."

"It's a good thing," he said with a grin.

She smiled back at him and noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were much lighter than they'd been yesterday, almost entirely gone. "Feeling better today?" she asked.

The grin instantly vanished. "Sorry?"

"Are you- erm, you looked tired yesterday," she said.

Remus looked uncertain, but only for a moment. "Oh, right. Yeah, I was a little under the weather last week. I had to spend two nights in the hospital wing." He held the library door open for her.

"Oh no," Hermione said, trying to sound like she believed him.

They both went quiet and searched for an empty table to work at. Hermione headed straight for her favourite spot, a small table under a window that was tucked away quite nicely. Remus trailed after her silently. They sat down and pulled out their Arithmancy books and she tried to think of something to say.

"Remus?"

He shifted around in his chair uncomfortably. "Yes?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. "I... just want you to know I think you're a wonderful person. I don't know what I would have done without you yesterday."

"Oh," he said. "Thanks, Hermione. It was nothing."

"Anyway..." She didn't think she could take it much longer. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to lie to her. She was okay with him being a werewolf. But she didn't want to scare him off, either.

_ The little things, remember._

"Let's work on some secondary equations," she said, dragging her chair to his side of the table so she could sit beside him. Their elbows knocked together and she noticed his cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Right," he said, his smile returning, "I'm terrible with layered equations."

"There's a simple trick to keep them all straightened out," she said, flipping through her own textbook.

Two hours passed by in blissful, studious quiet as they worked through problem after problem. Hermione found she liked helping others understand schoolwork. There was something wonderful about watching Remus very slowly begin to understand where he was making mistakes and how he could fix them. And when he got it wrong she would shake her head and point out why it wouldn't work, and he would go back and fix it.

It was 6:30 when Remus slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "All of these figures are starting to look identical, Hermione."

She smiled and shut her textbook. "I suppose I should have warned you when you asked me to tutor you. I'm a bit of a perfectionist."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. "A bit?"

She laughed. "Come on, let's go to dinner."

By the time they sat down at the Gryffindor table the Great Hall was nearly empty, but as she was pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice a warm, sweaty body plopped down beside her and flung his arm around her in greeting.

"Bonsoir." Sirius grabbed her goblet and downed her pumpkin juice in one go.

"Hello, study buddies," James said, flinging himself down across from them.

Several more Gryffindors straggled into the Great Hall tiredly and sat down for a late dinner.

"How was practice?" Remus asked.

"Brutal." Sirius refilled her goblet and set it down in front of her. "Captain's a slave-driver, I tell you."

"I didn't know you played quidditch," Hermione said quietly, more to herself than him. The arm around her was warm and she could smell sweat mixed with antiperspirant, but oddly enough the scent wasn't repulsive in the slightest. In fact she rather liked it- it was very distinctly male.

"Didn't expect you to know. I'm a beater," he said, dropping his arm and fixing himself a plate heaping with food.

Hermione bit her lower lip. Of course she wouldn't know. She hardly knew him and he'd only met her yesterday. But as with Remus, she couldn't help feeling at ease around Sirius. Except there was a part of her that seemed permanently on edge around him. Not necessarily a bad thing, but something about him made her breath catch in her throat and her stomach flutter a bit. She didn't care to explore that particular sensation.

"Makes sense," she said. "You do seem like the type to beat things around with a bat."

Sirius clapped a hand on her shoulder and winked at her as he drowned his dinner in gravy.

"How was your study session?" James asked Remus with a grin.

"It was good. I might actually continue taking Arithmancy next year, if Hermione helps me." Remus smiled at her.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Listen, I wanted to ask you something," Sirius whispered in her ear, dragging her attention away from Remus and James as they began to argue about school.

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

"Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"What?"

Sirius gave her a rather devious smile. "Have lunch with me tomorrow. Just the two of us."

"Erm," she muttered, "okay." It came out despite the fact that she knew she ought to have said no.

"Brilliant," he said, straightening up and tossing his dinner roll at James. "Hey you, I can't do that thing we were going to do tomorrow."

James and Remus halted their argument to stare at him.

"What?"

"I have plans."

James gave him a look of indignation. "You're blowing me off?"

"Yes." Sirius went about eating his dinner, ignoring the three of them.

"Some friend he is," James muttered. "How do you like that, Hermione? You stay away from him, he's bad news."

Hermione shook her head, trying very hard not to laugh as Sirius plucked another dinner roll out of the basket and threw it at his friend.


End file.
